Oscillation
by the anomaly
Summary: Often, there isn't a fixed law on the oscillation of emotions when grief seems too hard to bear. This is about how Remus deals with Sirius' passing. Post0otP, oneshot, slash RLSB. Please read and review!


**Disclaimer:** If these characters belonged to me, I'd be a happy person.

This is a one-shot fic. Sorry if the storyline coincides with anybody else's storyline. Please read and review!

**Oscillation**

_Ay si volvieras a mi _

_Encenderia el sol mil primaveras _

_Si regresaras por mi _

_Seria un milagro cada beso que me dieras _

_Pero hoy te vas _

_Y no hay vuelta atraz _

_- Si volvieras a mi _by Josh Groban

----------

It is dark. The bulb swings (oscillates, rather), suspended in the air, casting ominous shadows on the walls and the one living ghost they hold. Remus sighs heavily, his breath disturbing the still air and echoing down the hallway. His brown hair obscures amber eyes, fingers smoothing over the map.

One pair of feet isn't there.

It's absurd, how he was taken away so soon, like a passing shadow. Remus lets out a bitter laugh, and tries to keep his lips from quivering. He tastes blood in his mouth.

Logical thinking tells him that it is time for grieving to cease, for him to move on, carry on with his life. Or what is left of his ailing spirit. But he hasn't even begun grieving yet. For him, Sirius was still falling gracefully behind the archway, for him the veil was still moving from the impact of Bellatrix's hex.

For him, time has stopped to moment he held Harry back and said the words that he himself didn't believe; that Sirius was dead.

But things never happened _for_ him, just like how he has decided, unconsciously, to never live for the events that the future holds.

----------

He is on his knees, teeth grinding, cradling his pounding head in his hands. _Pain_, a word seldom forgotten by Remus Lupin, especially when the waning moon continues to pull at his limbs and joints, calling him, beckoning him to enter into some unfathomable darkness. Leaning over the sink, he retches and sinks back onto the toilet floor, half-sprawled on those cracked tiles that continue to paint naive pictures of flowers and paradise. Finally, he heaves himself up, and leans against the sink, feeling the cool porcelain beneath his stiff fingers as his vision clears. It suddenly occurs to him that he seems to be unraveling; he does not quite comprehend or even believe what he is seeing.

It is a reflection of a foreign man in the mirror.

It is a reflection of someone broken.

It is a reflection of a bloody coward.

Overhead, the lamp swings. Remus spits dryly into the sink, tasting the tinge of sour vomit on his tongue. He considers, for a moment, running away from this god-forsaken place, running away from the Order, even running away from himself. Something inside him tells him that he is entertaining _irrational_ thoughts. A voice, just above his right ear, seems to whisper, mockingly, 'Remus the Rational. Oh for goodness sake Moony, when are you ever going to give up on _logical reasoning_?' This teasing chant takes the shape of a certain man, dark haired and grey eyed, with a certain jauntiness in his step no matter where he was or what he was doing.

This voice represented all that he was running away from, the memories, the images of happiness, how laughter rang and stuck in his throat in the midst of an erotic dance. Remus knows that running away was never the best option, but he has still continued stubbornly to do so. Why confront the pain, when there was a way to avoid it? He had read from Muggle books, that electricity always flowed via the easiest and fastest route. But he knows he isn't electricity, because the more he tried to forget, the worse it became. He realises, the hard way, that there is no quick fix to grief and pain.

Sirius kept returning to him in little ways, in ways that he would rather ignore, but couldn't bring himself to do so. It seemed as though his best friend was intent on making him feel worse than he already did. Remus leans his head back and sighs. He hears the soft 'drip-drip' from the leaking shower head that Sirius had promised to fix up, each drop hitting the cold hard floor, like each toll of a death-knell that emphasized the empty promises and the futile hopes they had once shared. This was just one of the small occurrences in his everyday life; the sights, sounds, smells that brought along wave after wave of memories, that crashed down upon him seemingly without a care in the world.

In order to avoid all possible contact with anything that reminded him of Sirius, Remus decides to spend the day in an unnamed room in the house of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. He chooses to combat cobwebs, unidentified creatures in a crumbling wardrobe and an old musty smell over the memories that came and scorched his heart. As he stumbles from the bathroom and enters the room, he sees Tonks sitting on the (or should it already belong to him?) bed, her lips clamped tightly into a forced smile.

Her pink-haired head bobs up and down as she takes in his thin frame and shabby robes, asking indignantly, 'What are you trying to do?'

There is a slight hint of irritation in his voice as he answers, 'Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?' He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and sits down at a corner of the bed. He doesn't meet her eyes.

Restless, she jumps up and faces him. 'Remus, you know that's not the point. Why are you doing this to yourself?' She plants her hands firmly on his shoulders, but he shrugs her hands off and turns away.

'I'm doing nothing. Could you leave me for a moment?' He doesn't wish to beg her, but the mere sight of her reminds him of happier times; of the times when Sirius used to transfigure frogs into boxes of candy for his young cousin, making her giggle as he tickled her little tummy as he watched, laughing at Sirius' childish antics and often futile attempts to entertain the child.

'No, thank you kindly. I'm here to wake you up from your self-induced stupor.' Her voice seems to be raised an octave higher as she retorts sharply.

'I'm fine, Tonks. Really. Let me be, just for a while, all right?' He feels tired, and the weariness seems to be spreading to his bones, eating him from inside out, leaving only an empty shell. He repeats, when he doesn't hear a reply, 'All right?'

She still doesn't answer, and turning around to glance at her, Remus suddenly becomes aware of Tonk's quiet sobs. It is awkward, being alone with a crying woman. He feels that his shoulders are never broad enough for her to rest her head on, and his embrace is never warm enough to comfort her, and he walks briskly to a separate corner of the room, attempting to shut out the sound of her sobs, the tears that drip through her fingers and fall to the ground.

'I loved him too...you know. We...all loved him, he was a...great friend...and useful member of the Order.' She says, her sobs breaking up the sentences.

Remus runs his fingers through his hair, and says, barely above a whisper, 'I know.'

She has stopped crying. 'He wouldn't want you to be like this.'

'It doesn't matter what he wants. Go away, Tonks.' He knows he sounds pathetic, but continues anyway, 'Please, for me.'

Defeated, Tonks turns slowly and walks out, but just before she reaches the door, she heads back, and grabs Remus' arm, saying, 'Come, I've something to show you.' Remus tries to resist, but proves to be too weak-willed against Tonks, who always seems to get her own way. She half-drags him along an all-too-familiar corridor, into an all-too-familiar room.

_Their_ room.

He breathes in the scent of the room, eyes taking in the rumpled sheets and the desks piled high with manuscripts and the large oak wood cupboards. Suddenly, it seems too much to bear. He backs away subconsciously, but Tonks holds his arm and keeps him there.

'Let me go,' He says, voice shaking with emotion, eyes squeezed tightly shut to keep away the tears, mind closed against the flood of memories.

She tugs his arm and points at the desk, and says firmly, 'Look at this.' When he doesn't, she repeats, 'Look at it, open your eyes and look at all of this.'

'I said, let me go.' He pleads, and is barely aware of the tears that trace the delicate line of his chin.

'No.'

'LET ME GO.' Remus is already starting to raise his voice. He finally manages to release himself from her grip and pushes her away from him, so much so that she falls on the ground, hard.

She doesn't get up from the floor, but looks up at him and meets his eyes, and says softly, 'Don't you understand? It's time for you to start healing, Remus.'

And like a stubborn child, 'But I don't want to. You can't force me to do that. Besides,' he says in spite of himself, 'I'm not hurt,' He knows he's lying, as he bites his lower lip.

As a last resort, Tonks stands and grabs the stacks of parchment on the table. Those manuscripts are the remnants of their planning of their first mission together so many years ago. Such beautiful years, such beautiful memories. She throws them at his feet, and yells, 'Go and rot, for all I care!' She storms out of the room and slams the door behind her.

The slamming echoes throughout the room. Remus lowers himself and kneels, picks up the pieces of parchment, and runs his fingers over them. It comes slowly at first, and then it hits him, the memories of joy, of pain, of hurt, of grief, and his thin frame is racked by violent sobs as he weeps and covers his face with his large empty hands, rocking back and forth, back and forth upon his knees...

----------

_**Autumn, Year XXXX**_

_I slept in my bed today. Or what used to be our bed._

_I thought I could be strong, like Tonks said, 'confront' the sorrow and grief. Perhaps I was too naive to believe her. I was never strong enough for anyone. _

_I don't want to forget anything anymore, the reality, the dreams, everything. And yet, I don't want to remember anything anymore, either. Why can't we just live, like nothing has happened? _Logical reasoning _tells me it isn't possible, because something has definitely happened, and everything's changed now. Whether it's for the better or for the worse, I can't really tell... _

_It begins with the map. The outline of a pair of feet, so faint I almost overlook it, slowly becoming bolder and moving faster and faster toward the room I am in. I know, before I even hear his heavy footsteps, before he even reaches the door, that he is coming. And then, he comes running through the door. He stops behind me, but I don't turn around to face him; I'm too afraid that it will turn out to be just another fraud, another lie, another disappointment. It's funny how we avoid happiness because somehow, we know, the joy just won't last long enough to cover the darker hours. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I tremble under his touch. In a swift motion, he turns me around and we face each other, and for the first time in months, our eyes meet. I can hardly breathe, hardly stand, all I can feel at this moment is the sound of my pounding heart, and his gentle, piercing gaze. I can't bare to stare at him, so beautiful, so perfect, my breath hitches as our hands reach for each other. His mouth is on mine, his hands, moving, oh love, it's been so long. I'm falling, I can't bring myself to believe that Sirius is before me, whole, flesh warm as blood beneath the earth. I rest my head on his shoulder, and his fingers trace my face, grazing across jaw line and cheekbone, running through my hair. We are young again, the years and dreadful things of the past all fall away, as the backdrop melts and nothing is left of the map except two pairs of footprints contrasting starkly with the rest of the pale parchment..._

_I made that up. It didn't turn out that way, it never would._

_It begins in that dreaded room. Sirius is falling behind the archway. I run toward him, but I'm not fast enough; I'm never fast enough. I reach the veil just as he falls through it, back arching gracefully as though midway through an exotic dance. My hands grasp nothing but air, as I fall on my knees, my mouth slightly open, numb. The cries of Harry echoes throughout the room, the others' voices seem to be bouncing off the walls, colliding and blending into one song of sorrow. The walls start to close in on me, as the voices become louder and Harry's cries become more desperate, and I am trying, in vain, to block out the noise, the shock, the reality. The picture before my eyes starts to swirl and darkness envelopes the entire scene. I'm in freefall, no longer knowing where I am, or what I am doing, or where I will finally end up. This emptiness gnaws at my heart, and I can't seem to breathe right, and then suddenly, I wake up, sweating, with the sheets tangled around my legs._

_I thought I could just make a little space for it, but there isn't room for hope anymore. _

_R.L._

**The End**

**A/N: **The style for the 'diary entry' part at the end was inspired by a part in The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. I'm not sure of the time frame, so I left the year as XXXX. Sorry if this has upset anyone... Also, 'Oscillation' was written before I read the 6th book, so I was unaware of the feelings that Tonks has for Remus, and also Remus' attitude towards her. Sorry for any inconvenience caused...


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